


Umbrellas

by DyslexicTrashWriter



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Rain is troublesome, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-05-29 15:52:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyslexicTrashWriter/pseuds/DyslexicTrashWriter
Summary: It's raining, again.





	1. Rain

It’s raining, again. The plinking of large water droplets against the window drew your attention before you saw them.

Luckily, this time you came prepared. Dipping into your school bag, you yank out an oversized rainproof mackintosh and being fumbling with the zip. It’s an odd piece of clothing really, dull green with two zips up the front and several large pockets either side. It's not the most flattering item to wear. You grandmother had so kindly bought it as a _practical_ gift- that you’d grow into-, and it was a lot better than getting wet. Your fingers struggle with the zip as you haul the too-long sleeves over your arms and advance towards the school doors.

Gradually, you become aware of a large shadow looming over you as you tug again at the zipper. “Need a little help?” a voice asks. Turning around, you come face to face with the upper class man Yamamoto Takeshi, a lopsided smile on his face.

“Um, I think I’m okay . . .” you say, trying to cover for yourself as you realise the first zip has become stuck in the lining of the jacket and won’t budge. “Actually, would you mind holding my bag for a second?”  You ask, shyly handing over you bag to the senior as you take off your mackintosh and inspect the source of the problem. A moment of silence two passes with no luck and you realise he’s still looking at you with a soft friendly smile on his face.

“Shouldn’t you be at practice or something?” You query as you try tugging the zip in the opposite direction, attempting to make conversation so as not to appear rude to the kind upperclassman who's stopped to help.

Yamamoto nods, giving a positive hum. “Yeah, but . . .” He grins and rubs the back of his neck.

“But?” You follow up, tugging harder on the zip harder and holding back a creative swear.

“I forgot if we were practising on the pitch or doing training in the gym.” Yamamoto says, glancing at the rain splattered windows that line the foyer. “If it wasn’t raining I’d go and check, but their opposite ends of the school.” He shrugs and gives you that warm trademark look that could makes your knee week. “My dad told me to take an umbrella this morning too.” He jokes.

“That must suck.” You reply. For a moment you look at the tall, dark haired boy in front of you. You’d never really spoken to him before, but oh the _stories_ you’d heard. Shaking your head, you yank the zipper with all you’re might. It doesn’t budge. Frustration takes over and you yank the zipper repeatedly hoping for just an inch of wiggle room. Without warning the zip gives way and your elbow flies into Yamamotos side.

“Crap! Sorry, sorry!” You drop the mackintosh and grimace. “Are you okay?”

Yamamoto’s wincing, but after a moment he manages a nod and laughs. “Wow, you’re really strong!”

A slow small blush creeps over your cheeks and you can feel it warm your face. “T-thanks.” You mumble, letting your eyes look at anything but him. “You could borrow my mac, if you want?” you offer

“Huh?” he replies

“You can’t go outside like that, you’ll catch a cold. And you need to get to practice.” You turn and pick up your mackintosh. “Think of it as an apology.”

“But won’t you get wet?” he replies, in a gently concerned tone.

You find the courage to make eye contact with him and smile. “The rain should be off soon, I don’t mind waiting.”

“Thank you!” he laughs, slipping on the mackintosh. “It fits!”

“I’m glad” You say, giving him a smile and only grows bigger when you see the one on his face. Something about his presence just made you feel content. The way his lips parted when he smiled, or the little tuft of hair that sticks up at the very front of his head, the way he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. You sigh internally, he was kind of dreamy.

You snap back to reality when you feel a warm breath on your cheek. Yamamotos face close to yours, he whispers your name softly as he leans in and places a single kiss on your cheek. “Thank you.”

And with that he walks out into the rain. A huge smile spreads across your face. He’d kissed you, Yamamoto Takeshi had kissed you right on the cheek! You replay the moment in your head and pause, wondering how on earth he knew your name.


	2. Puddles

The hail slams hard against the windows pain, interrupting an otherwise pleasant sleep. Rain, constant rain. You sigh and open your wardrobe, searching for something warm and waterproof to wear. Your hand brushes along short summer dresses, freshly pressed school shirts, cardigans, party dresses, and eventually, the end of the rail.

 _Odd._ You lean in, taking a closer look into the dark of your wardrobe. You were sure you’d hung up your mackintosh when you got in.

“Grandddmmmmmmaaaa?” you call.

“Yes, dear?” she calls from the room across the hall.

“Have you seen my mac? It’s not in the wardrobe.” You shout.

“Sorry?” she replies. You try again, and get the same reply. You decide it’s easier to go to her, age had made your grandmother a little fragile on her feet as well as deaf.

“My mac is missing form my wardrobe did you move it?” you explain, showing her the offending empty hanger.

“I’m sorry dear I haven’t seen it.” She removes her glasses and begins cleaning the on the edge of her shirt thoughtfully. “Did you leave it at school by accident?” She questions after a thoughtful moment.

“That’s odd.” You say, taping the edge of the hanger to your cheek. “I don’t remember leaving without it.”

Replaying the end of school in your head, you recall _exactly_ what happened to your mackintosh. Your hand brushes your cheek as you remember the kind gesture of the upperclassman.

“What’s the matter dear? You’ve gone all red?” Your grandmother asks, already fussing over you as she gets up from her chair and places the back of her hand on your forehead. “N-n-nothing Grandma. I think . . . I think I know where my mackintosh is. Sorry to bother you!” You apologise again for good measure and quickly grab your school stuff to change.

 What was that saying you reason to yourself, no good deed goes unpunished? Ducking under the shelter of another tree you weigh up the option of just waiting out the heaviest part of the shower. After a few moments you realise there’s no sign of the rain relenting. Trying to look on the bright side you reason there’s only a few more trees to go before you’re in the warm, dry comfort of Namimori. In fact, you could probably sprint there. Inhaling deeply, you make the decision to go for it.

Feet pounding on the pavement, you savour the feelings of the wind against your face as you rush past the other students.

“Watch out!” a loud cry escapes a small group of girls as you run past.

It’s loud enough to startle you, tripping over the side of the pavement and into a large murky puddle.

The wet, cold seeps through your shoes, and socks, and skirt all too quickly as you haul yourself out. “Owww.” You cry to no-one in particular. Lesson learnt, you walk to school and try not to think about how the freezing puddle water clings to your bones. The nurses office often has a spare uniform, so you head there.

The nurses office would be a messy minefield to anyone else, but you had helped out enough times to know your way around. There was always a spare key under the keyboard in the unused office adjacent to her room, and the nurse had told you to use it in case of an emergency. As normal the handle is a bit stiff, but a good shove always fixed that problem. It’s pleasantly warm in the nurses office as you start stripping off. Hibari had basically ordered that two spare uniforms ben kept here at all times. Apparently, it was _disrespectful_ that those who are injured or bitten to death would dare remove a bloodied uniform and not replace it immediately. Mind you, that guy practically lived in this uniform you grumble as you slide on a new shirt.

It’s far too big. Peeling it off you reach for a smaller size, but the sudden sound of the door opening makes you freeze.

“Hey, nurse can you take a look at something for m—” The dark haired senior begins, stopping mid sentence.

“H-he-hey!” you shout, instinctively grabbing the shirt to cover yourself.

“I’m sorry!” Yamamoto manages after a moment of jaw open staring, swiftly turning his back and hiding the deep shade of red covering his face. You scrabble around, finding a skirt and some dry socks.

Once you’re properly dressed you assure Yamamoto he can turn around, gently placing an arm on his shoulder to draw him away from the wall he’s seemingly engrossed in watching.  There’s a big smile on his face as his eyes meet yours, and for a moment you could swear you hear your heartbeat increase tenfold. He’s so cute, so soft, it seemed impossible that the rumours about him were true. How could someone so nice be involved in the mafia?

You query what he came to the nurses office for/ “Oh yeah! I hurt my arm recently and,” Yamamoto pulls down the collar of his shirt to show his shoulder. “I thought maybe the nurse would have something for it?” he continues, running thumb over his collar bone. There’s no visible bruising but you insist he sit down while you take a look at it properly. His skin in warm under your fingers as you gently apply pressure around the shoulder, studying his face for an sign of discomfort.

“Does that hurt?” you ask, pressing down on the joint of the shoulder muscle you’ve already forgotten the proper name for.

It almost looked like Yamamoto is holding back any sign of physical pain and you try again a little harder. Carefully you outline the muscles with your finger. “Just there?” you ask again.

“Yeah!” he winces. _Bingo!_

You explain he’s probably pulled a muscle, laughing as you joke it’s because of all the baseball he plays.

“I do like baseball.” He chuckles. Without thinking you reach over and ruffle his short hair, elling him that’s because he’s good at it. As soon as you realise, you retract your hand, feeling incredibly awkward at the sudden gesture and apologising profusely.

“You’re cute when you blush.” The upperclassman laughs, reaching over to ruffle your hair back. Internally, you scream. Were you blushing? Was it _that_ obvious?!

“So, what does nurse-chan suggests.” Yamamoto asks earnestly.

You try to focus, and not think about how the incredibly adorable and handsome upperclassman just ruffled your hair. You stutter out something about it only being a strain and stretching properly before and after training would help. You rummage in the sterile white medical cupboard for some sport tape you know you’ve seen lying around somewhere.

“I’ve heard massages are great for sore muscles.” Yamamoto calls from this place on the examining bed. You’re half listening as you check inside a vaguely labelled storage box. You tell him that this is true, but done wrong it can do more damage than good.

“I think a massage from you would definitely do me good.” Comes his reply. It takes you a full two heartbeats to process what exactly he means by that. “M-me?” you practically squeak as you nearly drop the roll of tape you’d found.

“Ah sorry, I was thinking aloud.” Yamamoto laughs as he spots the blush returning to your cheeks.

Before you can say anything else, the nurse arrives. She’s absolutely no help and makes constant jokes about you and your new boyfriend. The heat on your cheeks only growing as she asks if you two want another moment alone.

“Nooit’sfineihaveclassnow!” you blurt out, as you all but sprint out the door and into the safety of the girls bathroom.


	3. Storm

You’re on your way to the nurses office when a loud clap of thunder makes you jump. Turning to look out one of the hallway windows you see just how bad the rain had become. No doubt, a raging storm was on its way. You sigh, going home now would be a good idea, but you’d promised the school nurse you would help today. The line outside the infirmary isn’t long, and the lingering smell of disinfectant and cotton assures you the worst of the students are over with.

You slip on an apron and ask what needs to be done. Two students had gotten into a minor scuffle, one with a spirant ankle, another requiring an ice pack. Both agree not to do it again. There’s a lull in visitors and as you sit at the small desk arranging bandages into section trays, your mind wanders. You think about Yamamoto, how he’d ruffled your hair. The wide all encompassing smile that lit up his eyes when he spoke, the heat from his skin when you’d touched his shoulder, the way he’d ruffled your hair, the way he’d kissed your cheek.

“Oi! Don’t ignore me!” A rough voice barks at you. 

“Sorry!” You shout, feeling the hard slam of reality as you spin around and catch sight of the student. He’s all grey hair and anger as he folds his arm and glares at you. There’s no introduction or explanation of what’s wrong, the irritable boy taking a seat on the examining chair without so much as a  _hello_  or  _thank you._

Taking a deep breath, you put his lack of manners aside and get down to your job. “What’s the matter?” You ask him, wheeling your chair over to get a closer look. The boy pauses, as if he hadn’t quite thought that far.

“Sore head.” He grumbles eventually, not making proper eye contact. You nod, putting your instinct aside and running a regular procedure. You ask if he’s drank enough water today and he looks at you like you’re crazy. “Who the fuck drinks water?!” He spits as though the idea is some crazy form of witchcraft. You ask if he has any other symptoms, and slowly you being to catch on that there might not actually be anything wrong with this guy other than a ridiculously high blood pressure due to his constant volcanic anger.

“I think you need some painkillers and rest.” You tell him, siding your wheeled chair over to the medicine cabinet.

The grey haired boy mumbles something you didn’t quite catch. You ask him to repeat it.

“I  _said_  I was expecting someone taller.” He shouts, loud enough that you’re sure passers-by in the corridor can hear. You tilt your head, unsure what exactly he meant by that.

“God, you two have the same fucking idiotic look as well.” He grumbles, shoving himself off the examining bed and snatching the paracetamol. You hear the sound of the grey haired boy mumbling all the way down the corridor. “Fucking idiot. . . wasn’t enough he day dreams about baseball . . . letting a girl distract him. . . Squalos gonna kill him.” 

You can’t make heads nor tails of the student mutterings and decide to put it to the back of your mind as you tidy away and close up shop for the day.


	4. Flood

You hummed as you worked, sorting medical equipment almost on autopilot, It’s not until a particularly large roll of thunder breaks your thoughts process that you look out, and realise how dark and cloudy the day had become. The storm was almost over, but the rain still fell relentlessly.  From above, it looked as if the entire pathway exiting Namimori was coated in a thick layer of muddy water. You look down at your shoes, realising there’s no way you could get home without ruining them and dirtying the uniform you’d borrowed from the nurse, no doubt Hibari would bite you to death for the crime of a ruined uniform, especially one that wasn’t even yours. Taking a gamble, you decide to wait it out, hoping with naïve optimism that the rain would calm. The school halls are basked in a washed navy light as the dark sky reflects off the almost flooded ground below.

As you approach the lobby, you recognise the dark outline of a tall figure standing near the glass doors. “Hello?” You call out, not one hundred percent sure you’re right in your guess, or just imagining things.

“Hey!” Yamamoto chuckles, that warm lopsided smile etching its way over his face and making the corner of his eyes crinkle. 

You’re shocked he’s still here, it must be at 5 and dark already. You tell him this, but the taller boy just smiles nonchalantly.  You find yourself smiling back, for no reason other than it feels so infectious, impossible not to with someone like him.

“I thought I’d walk you home to say thank you for this morning.” He grins, pointing to his shoulder.

“You waited all this time?!” You laugh, not quite believing him.

“Yeah!” He says leaning his head back in his arms. “I kept telling myself I’d just wait another five minutes.” He glances at the large round cock face that hangs on display in the lobby. A clock you’re pretty sure was only put there to remind students how late they were. “And then . . . it was a lot more than five minutes. But it’s okay, I’m glad I waited.” He grins, turning back to you. 

“That’s very nice of you Yamamoto. But I think you’re going to have to wait a bit longer.” You say, gesturing to the mess of rain and mud beyond the doors.

Yamamoto is about to say something when he’s interrupted. 

“What are you two herbivores still doing here?!” A more than pissed off prefect snarls at you.

“H-Hibari!” You say, already feeling as though you’d broken a rule. “ We were just waiting for the rain to stop.” You explain. His glare is steady as it fixes from you to Yamamoto.

“Don’t you have an umbrella.” He says, irritation biting at every syllable. You shake a little, worried the dark haired boy will make his classic threat any moment. To your surprise, a warm hand slips into your, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You look up at Yamamoto. He doesn’t seem afraid at all.

“Sorry Hibari, we both forgot one.” He smiles, either completely missing the threatening atmosphere or feeling no threat at all. Hibari disappears for a moment, and returns with a small black umbrella. 

“Stop crowding and leave.” He bites, practically stabbing Yamamoto with the umbrella as he throws it into the taller boys outstretched hand. You give the perfect a nod of thanks before he swiftly departs the scene.

“Ready to go home?” Yamamoto grins, his hand still in yours.

**Author's Note:**

> As the name implies, I'm trash. And instead of working on the other multiple stories i have, i decided to rewrite an old one from Ff.net days. So it's technically a cross post?? Anyway hope you enjoy this lil fluffy fic <3


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